Ignition
by Gangsta Videl
Summary: Colonel Roy Mustang makes the rules. He changes them to better fit himself---too bad that he never thought to tell the people most affected. [Roy x Riza]


**Ignition**

A/N: Well, _originally, _this was inspired by the 2002 movie Carrie (a remake of the classic? But this one with a WTF-y ending that leaves you insane in the membrane?) and as many many songs as I could think of with the word "fire" in the choruses. Because I'm weird like that. Written while watching Whose Line Is It Anyway, so it may get... strange.

Oh yeah. My notes are pointless.

Disclaimer: I still don't trust FUNi, but what can I do? I don't own anything!

°°°

**Ignition**

**°°°**

Her eyes closed.

Her hand moved to her holster.

"Colonel, sir," First Lieutenant Hawkeye announced, "permission to speak freely?"

Her commanding officer sighed. "Permission granted, Lieutenant."

She caught his gaze with a fixed frown. "Drop dead."

"Now Hawkeye," Colonel Mustang replied, voice smooth and calm as he folded his hands over his desk. "I don't believe that's a very optimistic opinion. Do you?"

"Sir," the woman replied, "that _was_ the optimistic opinion."

The man shrugged lightly. "Well then, Lieutenant, it seems that we have a difference of opinion."

Her frown never seemed to fumble. "It would seem so, sir."

Mustang nodded. This argument growing old, Hawkeye's tentative grip on her weapon slackened. It wouldn't have worked well anyway, an assault on the colonel, particularly not with a gun. Who knew how he'd react to that---beyond melting the handgun, if at all possible.

After a brief, uncomfortable silence, the woman lowered her head and her gaze.

"Might I make an inquiry as to why?"

He was silent, merely bringing his folded hands up to his lips. She would wait, but only for a moment, and then she tried again, this time asking only with his title:

"Colonel?"

Mustang looked to her, and his eyes caught hers. Hawkeye was unable to stop her next question.

"Did you find my work ethics problematic?"

She was not answered right away. Taking his silence in the negative, Hawkeye pressed on. For the moment, _this_ was priority---it placed above assignments and filing, and it all circulated back to the few sheets of paper on the desk.

"Have I overstepped boundaries, sir? Do you find my work---" and there was a brief pause, "do you find me to be inadequate?"

Still the Colonel did not answer, and now it was evident that the woman was becoming frustrated. She opened her mouth to try again, the question burning.

"Sir---"

"Your adequacy," the Colonel spoke now, his hands moving back to the polished wood of the desktop, "had little effect on this decision, Lieutenant."

Hawkeye looked to him with narrow, confused eyes. The man cast her a bland sort of smile, and that almost finalized everything.

"Now that the paperwork is complete, I will ask you to report to your commanding officer for reassignment." Mustang pushed the papers toward her, calm and devoid of any true emotion. "That will be all, Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

Cold. Clear. Perfectly Mustang.

With a deep breath and without losing any of her cool, Hawkeye lifted the file just as cool and just as collected as he had been. More so even---for now she nodded, and that was all.

He had filed for it, and thus he had received. Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, formerly of this office, was no longer in Colonel Roy Mustang's chain of command.

She had been removed.

"Understood, Colonel," and it was the last she said in his office. "Understood."

°°°

**"WHAT!"**

Heads turned in the direction of the short (and vehemently denying it) blond boy in red. This boy, standing on the cafeteria table, sat surrounded by his armored younger brother and three officers in blue, all nodding sadly.

Ed slammed his automail fist into the table, not minding the slight dent. "That son of a bi---"

His brother almost choked. "ED!"

The elder Elric ignored the outburst, and Al was not surprised. Not really.

"So the Colonel had Hawkeye---THE Hawkeye---REMOVED from his OFFICE!"

Cigarette in mouth, Jean Havoc nodded. "Yeah. Had her transferred into another department entirely."

Ed shook his head in disbelief and slumped back into his chair. "Damn." He didn't miss the look Al sent him. Instead of acknowledging it with any sort of apology, he asked---in a simple, reasonable tone---the question all had to ask. "_Why_?"

"They always worked so well together," Al's voice echoed from inside the suit of armor. He was the only one so calm and reserved about it---and the only one who seemed to have accepted it beyond face value.

Now Havoc, proud of this information, shrugged. "No one knows."

Ed sat back in his chair, raising it off of two legs. With a scoff, he closed his eyes. "What a _bastard_..."

At the table, there was an instant reaction. The others drew away, half gulping out of fear and all four panicking. The braided alchemist had yet to notice that he had slid into the shadow of a most respected officer and topic of gossip, which couldn't end well.

"Whatever he's planning---just _look_ at her! She's _Hawkeye_!" Ed let out a short laugh, and his company winced. Now, at this unusual silence, he began to wonder. Cracking one eye open, questioning, he saw their faces, and caught on. When he looked up, there was Colonel Mustang, smiling down at him.

"Uh..." the boy in red faltered; it was not a pleasant sight in general. Not _that_ smile. It only took a moment for his smart alec to kick in and hide his embarrassment.

"So! It's the devil himself." Bright and jovial, Ed grinned---to his companions' chagrin. "Been busy, Mustang?"

The Colonel was never so forgiving, though he masked it well. "Come now, Fullmetal. Is that any way to speak of your commanding officer?"

"Oh, good!" Ed replied, sarcastic and unpredictable. "That means I still haven't been _canned_ yet."

This couldn't go over well. The razor thin smile of the Colonel's was waning. It wasn't a good sign.

He dropped the folder he'd been carrying to the table. Ed looked at it as though it were potentially fatal. "The hell is this?"

"That," Mustang drawled in response, "is your new assignment." He smiled all the more. "Try not to get lost in the large font."

"WHO ARE YOU SAYING IS TOO SMALL TO SEE IN A FRESHLY CUT FIELD OF GRASS!"

The smug grin had returned. "I'd suggest you return your mind to your work now, boys. And yes, Havoc," the officer in question straightened up and his hand moved for a salute, "that includes you."

Mustang turned and left. The company sighed in unison to show their relief, even those newly reprimanded.

Ed slumped forward in his chair. Flipping through the first few type-written pages in the folder even made him groan.

"Damn it," he swore. Al looked at him pleadingly---as much so as possible, what with his steel body. Ed scowled at nothing and no one in particular, finally grunting and standing.

"We're leaving Central on this one, Al." The armored head perked up in time for him to see Ed crush a sheet of loose-leaf in his fist.

"That bastard," the elder hissed, and Al sighed.

"Brother..."

Ed shrugged, then grinned cheekily. "Time to fly, then. Think his head will be any closer to being removed from his ass when we get back?"

"_Brother_..."

"Yeah, you're right." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "It's grown there."

Al sighed again. "Ed, the Colonel will be angry if we don't leave soon."

The voice of reason. Ed agreed.

"Yeah, you're right again, Al," he said. "Better head out."

He waved a quick good-bye to the three soldiers, all of which waved the pair of Elrics off. The duo didn't look back, and the trio of soldiers soon dropped back into their usual lazy demeanor. With gossip still in their minds, they turned back to their conversation. It brightened their afternoons, that fussy talk, and all the reprimands in the world wouldn't stop their fun now---not when the Colonel was off to file for something or other.

That was not their business; they did not ask. Nor did he ask why they were still there when he returned some time later.

That was just how it went with the men sometimes. Each was on his own path; obstacles meant only for he who was on that trail. No one else.

°°°

The two hadn't met up again for another two weeks. It wasn't a planned reunion by any stretch of the imagination: she was receiving papers from a secretary; he had wound up behind her, and Hawkeye had not even noticed until that familiar gloved hand reached passed her to take from the secretary his own papers.

Turning, she stared. At this, he smiled.

"Ah, Lieutenant Hawkeye," he said in greeting. His eyes seemed to light up in his private joy. She nodded politely, saluting until he nodded, signaling for her to be, once again, at ease.

"Colonel Mustang, sir," Hawkeye said, and as she did so, she dropped her hands to her sides. The dark-haired Colonel paused to thank the young woman behind the desk before nodding again to his once-subordinate.

"I understand you have a new commanding officer."

Hawkeye did not show her confusion at this simple statement, though she did have to wonder. "Yes, sir," she said at last, always professional, "as per request."

Mustang gave a nod. "Excellent."

He indicated that she should follow him outside, and Hawkeye followed behind him obediently to the large glass doorway. It was not in her to question him again, merely to wait and see what he'd put his mind to now.

Once again, he surprised her.

Mustang stopped along the cement pathway, and he reached out to support his balance on a particularly thick tree trunk. Looking over the grounds slowly, as though checking for anyone or anything he recognized or even anything out of the ordinary, he finally got back to looking at the woman behind him.

"Are you on duty this Friday, Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

Hawkeye blinked. Now her confusion was most apparent---as the Colonel had probably already accounted for, knowing him.

"No, sir," she said at last, moving to lift up and show her papers off. "As of five minutes ago, I am on a three-day leave."

Mustang nodded. "I know. I filed the paperwork."

A dark looked crossed the Lieutenant's face. Whatever this man was planning now, she wasn't soo certain that she wanted in at the ground floor---or whatever level he was currently at, even. "Why ask then, _sir_, if you already had the answer?"

He smiled mysteriously, turning to face her while holding up the sheets he had also received just picked up from the secretary.

"It's the strangest thing, Lieutenant," Mustang said. He shook the files. "As of two minutes ago, I am also on a three-day leave."

She stared at him. "Sir?"

The Colonel only proceeded to grin before extending her his arm. "May I take you to dinner, ma'am?" He leaned close to her ear then, and Hawkeye's eyes widened as he let out with a hoarse whisper:

"So glad that this isn't a breach of protocol---aren't you? It would have been if you were still under my command, too---imagine that... "

He smiled again and tapped her hand, with which she still held onto her filing. He had stepped back, the crook of his elbow still waiting for her. "This seemed to be the best way to forward things," Mustang murmured. "Don't you agree?"

It made sense. In a sane, logical, purely _Mustang_ sort of way, it made _sense_. Pure male logic and with his influence, he'd brought the idea to fruition.

Hawkeye dropped her head to her chest and let out a short laugh, her eyes closed. Opening them, she looked to Mustang and smiled as she accepted his arm.

"Sir," and it was all that Hawkeye said, "that would be an honor."

°

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°°°

A/N: HAHAHAHA. Yeah. And I wrote this because my good friend's older brother likes to 'acquire' things from the army. Apparently the night vision goggles he snitched (read: ILLEGAL to possess) are kick ass. Or, you know, so I've heard tell. o:

To see the unedited version, stamp your feet, jump on one foot, each a two pound taco and sing "The Ballad of Sir Robin" in pi-to the _i_-powered seconds. Or go find my fic journal. XD Either one.

And yes, I'm aware of how jerkily it was written. But it's my first piece, so I really wasn't too bothered by it. I'll try harder next time, really.

° Gangsta Videl


End file.
